


Sinners and Scamps

by inksheddings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-27
Updated: 2010-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:52:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inksheddings/pseuds/inksheddings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel never did choose a side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sinners and Scamps

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [Gabriel Kink Meme.](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_gabriel/76523.html) More angst than kink, though. *laughs*

Gabriel never did choose a side, never did "stand up" to his family. He sort of started rooting for the Winchesters, however -- it was hard not to appreciate their suicidal determination -- and there were a few times he thought they'd actually pull it off, change fate, prove themselves to be the ultimate Tricksters.

It didn't end up happening in Detroit. That much changed, but not much else.

"Gabriel?"

"Yeah, I'm here, Sam."

Sam sits up on the couch where he'd fallen asleep. Nightmares that Gabriel can not diminish make Sam's nights anything but restful, so he tends to fall asleep at all times of the day, making up for the exhaustion that is now Sam's constant companion. Well, that and Gabriel.

Gabriel sits down on the couch and flicks hair out of Sam's eyes. Gabriel remembers when that action used to piss Sam off to no end, but now he mimics it -- every time -- mere seconds later. It's creepy, but Gabriel accepts that Sam's time under Lucifer's control is not something he'll ever truly shed.

Sam is slow to wake and he looks around the room in confusion after rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Where's Dean?"

And isn't that the million dollar question. Where is Dean, indeed.

"He's with my brother," Gabriel answers again, because it's the truth.

"Oh. Yeah. Cas. Or-"

Gabriel doesn't have to be touching Sam's body to feel it stiffen beside him as reality reaffirms itself in Sam's mind. He doesn't always wake up disoriented, but it sucks when it happens, because Gabriel can offer no comfort that matters.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Sam says, his eyes never meeting Gabriel's. He stands up slowly and makes his way to the bathroom. Gabriel stays on the couch and damns Lucifer with every foul word he can think of in every language he knows. It's easier than damning himself.

When all was said and done, when Michael disappeared in Dean's form and Castiel disappeared in pursuit of them both, Lucifer stepped out of Sam and let him drop to the ground like so much dirty laundry.

"Take him, if you please," he told Gabriel. "A gift for ... staying true to yourself throughout this pretty mess of a family row."

Gabriel didn't ask what strings were attached, just picked Sam up and got the hell out of dodge. Found a house in the desert with a big front porch and a satellite dish and took Sam home. The water never ran dry and the fridge was always stocked, though none of that was Gabriel's doing. If he looked too closely he'd find some of those strings he hadn't asked about, so he just let Sam make himself turkey sandwiches with sliced pickles and mustard and then Gabriel snapped the dishes clean.

Gabriel stood and went into the bathroom where Sam was still showering. He could see his form behind the frosted glass, hands and forehead pressed against the tiled wall. Gabriel took his clothes off -- one article at a time, just because -- and climbed in with Sam. Sam didn't move, didn't say a word, kept his head against the tile. But when Gabriel wrapped his arms around Sam's waist, Sam placed one of his hands over Gabriel's.

"It doesn't wash away," Sam says, almost too quiet for even Gabriel to hear. "It just ... swirls all together, but-"

Gabriel moves one of his hands further down Sam's belly, scratches at the hair just below his navel.

"-when it settles it's all still there, you know?"

Gabriel doesn't say anything, but he kisses Sam's shoulder blade as he takes his cock in hand and starts to stroke. Sam's not hard yet, sometimes doesn't even get hard, but he always seems to relax whether he comes or not; always kisses Gabriel as if by doing so he could wear Gabriel's skin instead of his own.

Sam laughs, just a little. "You're gonna make me need another nap when I should be working on the porch swing."

Not much to do in the desert, so Sam's taken up an odd mix of carpentry in order to keep busy hands and a busy mind.

"Oh, I'll make your porch swing, don't you worry," Gabriel teases, and he feels Sam start to harden in his hand.

Sam lifts his head from the tile and leans back against Gabriel. It's awkward, what with the height difference, but Gabriel is strong enough to hold them both up, physically at least. Gabriel tightens his grip around Sam's waist and begins a slow thrust against his ass at about the same time that Sam starts actively fucking Gabriel's hand.

It's slow but nothing like lazy, and Gabriel can feel Sam waking up; can feel some of that suicidal determination that drew Gabriel like a moth to a flame. It's in the thrust of Sam's hips, the arch of his neck, and the way he doesn't let go of Gabriel's arm on his waist as they both work towards a release that lasts only for seconds.

But what glorious seconds they are.

Sam turns around and kisses Gabriel, but there's none of his usual desperation. This kiss is quiet; gentle. Just little kisses and puffs of air that-

"Blow, Gabriel, blow."

Gabriel leans back and cocks an eyebrow at Sam. "Shouldn't you have mention that earlier?" he asks, giving Sam's half-hard cock a tug.

"Hey!" Sam says as he swats Gabriel's hand away. "That's not- It's a song. An old song by Cole Porter."

Gabriel actually knows the song quite well. And yes -- that particular line? _Always_ his favorite, though decidedly not in the way Mr. Porter intended.

They stand there like that, the water never even hinting at starting to turn cold, and watch the mini-whirlpool forming around their feet as it all runs down the drain. But Sam's right -- nothing really washes away.

"Gabriel," Sam begins, and Gabriel knows that fucking hopeful tone of voice, and it's getting harder and harder to Trickster his way around it. "Gabriel, do you think-"

"I think that porch swing is calling your name, Sam. That's what I think."

Harder, but not impossible.

Sam stiffens again, though not nearly as much as he had on the couch, so Gabriel initiates this kiss and does his best to make it slow, make it patient -- make Sam patient, hold onto him a little longer until they've both caught up with what's caught up to them . It's not like they don't have the time, the world's already fucking ended.

"Do you ... want to help me?" Sam asks, and now it's Gabriel who stiffens, surprise taking him, well ... by surprise. Sam's never asked him to help with any of his work before. The Trickster in him is telling him to watch out, figure out what's Sam _really_ asking for, but ...

Gabriel never did choose a side or stand up to his family, but he did choose Sam. So.

"Yeah, Sam, I do."

 

**end**


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